


Differences Set Aflame

by Codex_6423



Series: Sterling Silver and her Lion [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Heated Argument, Name Calling, Pre-Relationship, Soft realization, budding friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codex_6423/pseuds/Codex_6423
Summary: The mages and the templars were always at odds with one another. With a war still brewing under the surface of Thedas, and a tear in the sky that threatened everyone's safety the Inquisition is torn between who to choose. Mages. Or Templars.





	1. Disheartening Misunderstanding

 “ _Be angry.” The older woman brushed a single silver lock behind her ear with a simple caress. Her eyes were soft at the corners as she regarded the young girl who huffed and crossed her arms. She was bright with anger, her blue eyes practically glowing like embers. She chuckled when the little one huffed again, as if to reaffirm that she was indeed fiery with bitter emotions._

_“Anger when used correctly can be very powerful.”_

She remembers that even then she was confused by her mother’s words, the wisdom that she bestowed upon her young mind was far too advanced for her to comprehend fully. Now though, as she felt the acid curl against her heavy heart like a wicked spell she thought maybe she could understand it.

 For if anger could be used as a weapon, then she was the most powerful of all.

 She remembered how when she was young she was always told to keep her head low, never keep eye contact with anyone for too long. Never speak out of turn. Never let her magic get away from her.

 She was kept on a leash, like a rabid Mabari, taught to be muzzled. To be content with being muzzled.

 It took years to pull herself from that mindset, years of her own internal battles as she travelled the Free Marches on her own. Now, she was just as fiery and as stubborn as a Mabari was meant to be. A Mabari that wasn’t muzzled from the moment it barked anyway.

 So, when the Commander challenged her. She rose like a wall, steely and unyielding. No wonder Varric gave her the nickname Sterling within just hours of knowing her.

 “The mages are not a viable option, that amount of magic poured into the Mark would be wildly unstable.” Her jaw ticked, her tongue beginning to feel as sharp as the sword he always carried at his hip. She shouldn’t let her anger get the best of her. She really shouldn’t. “We should reach out to the Lord Seeker and agree to his terms.”

 “The Templars could be just as unviable an option as the Mages Commander.” Josephine pointed out softly, her quill still elegantly turned away from her board to prevent the ink from smudging.

 “They are not an option I will entertain.” The Herald’s voice came out low and rough, even to her own ears it seemed to scrape against the stone walls. The fire of his honey eyes snapped to hers immediately, a tick gently quirking the corner of his scarred lips.

 Even Josephine felt the tension that immediately sizzled between templar and mage, the air between them even becoming charged with the bitter emotions they held. “I beg you to not write off the Order so quickly Herald. I have fought alongside these men and I know what they are capable of.” He held a tone of a man that might as well be talking to a child. The tone was enough to stroke her sharp emotions into something that might just burn her up from the inside.

 “Then we shall extend an invitation to join the Inquisition and nothing more.” She snapped and moved the marker they assigned to her, to show her own current attention, to Redcliffe. “They have the option to take it upon themselves to join, but I will not walk into their keep and beg for their help.”

 Dread Wolf take her from this tundra of a town. He moved a gloved hand to place his own war piece over Therinfal Redoubt, the challenge sizzling in his eyes. “I implore you to consider how dangerous it would be to bring that many mages under our banner. The abominations alone that we would have to prepare for – because there would be some. Would not only cause harm to others but also tarnish our name and credibility.” She felt the anger curl through her veins, the curse of it burning her to the point she was sure her eyes were glowing with it. Her mother always did try to warn her from that.

 “ _Be careful young one, for if they find out what you are you won’t live long enough to deny it.”_

 She shoved it from her mind as quick as the chiding tone of her mother’s voice echoed in tone with the steady beat of anger that circled her like a cloud. She was not going to be ashamed of who she was any longer. If a templar happened to peg what she may be, then so be it.  

 “We do not have the numbers in our ranks that know how to properly handle an abomination.” The Commander was still talking, his voice determined.

 “You mean kill?” She snapped, the word slicing from her tongue like a bolt of lightning. “Trust me Commander I am aware of how Templars handle abominations, because that’s all you see us as.” She extended a hand, and when fire licked to life in her palm, the orange and yellow making harsh shadows dance across her features. Making the fire in her eyes seem even sharper. Even more dangerous. “It does not matter if we say yes to a demon or not, for as long as we can conjure fire at the flick of a finger or call on lightning we are not normal. We are abominations to your own definition of what we should be, and if we so much as do not bend to the whim of what you wish we are made Tranquil and forced to be something we are not.” The fire extinguished with a simple flutter of her fingers.

 “Do you think I have not already heard the whispers of the select few Templars we have here already? They – _you –_ want me to be made Tranquil so I would not pose a threat to the common people, so I would be able to follow every order blindly without a single word of disagreement.”

 “I do not wish that upon any- “

 “But you have.” The accusation may as well have been a punch, the surprised expression that flitted across his face was akin to a struck puppy. “Righter of past wrongs, fixer of tangled messes. You are here to hide from what you were.”

 “Mage hunter, templar. _Knight Captain.”_

 The anger that struck within him made his expression darken. “I am not that man any longer. Mages are dangerous and that is a simple fact.”

 “I do not trust Templars!” It came as an angered shout, and as soon as it left her lips she wanted to spit the reasons that were lined up behind that to solidify it within his mind. If she focused hard enough she could still hear the march of plate metal, smell the smoke as it clogged her nose and made her eyes burn, hear the screams as she ran deeper and deeper into the woods.

 She blinked and that was when she realized there were tears caught in her lashes. Creators of course. She reached up and angrily swiped at her eyes before settling her gaze on the stunned Commander. Was he stunned from her outburst or the sight of tears in her dark lashes?

 Creators.

 “I am getting the mages, and that is the end of this discussion.” With that she turned sharply and stormed from the room leaving the Commander to bask in the ending tendrils of her anger.

 And bask he did. He was stunned into silence from her outburst, from the feeling of her anger as it swallowed the room in its own bitter tongue. From the sight of tears that immediately sprang to her eyes when she proclaimed the mistrust she held in her tattered heart. It was like for the first time in months he witnessed who she was, not just the Herald or the mantle she held with it.

 To think he was trying so hard to break those walls for so long, to close the gap that was somehow placed between them. To be able to stand on equal ground with her, just as Varric and Solas did.

 Now he had the answer, for months he asked himself why she was so guarded with him. Why she never held his eye contact for more than a couple seconds. Why she was always wound tight like a cord when he neared.

 “ _Mage hunter, Knight Captain.”_

The accusation – no the truth – rang closer than what he expected, he wanted to be angry that she spat it so willingly. That she tossed it in his face when he was trying so hard to put that life behind him. To become the protector he wanted to be when he was a child.

 Yet he wasn’t. With the door slammed solidly between them, and the gap only becoming wider as she stormed away, he was reserved. Swallowed in his own winding thoughts.

 She didn’t trust him.

 Of course, she didn’t. With the reputation he had, could he truly blame her?

 He quietly excused himself from the War Room, ignoring the looks from the two women that stood alongside him as he left. He was certain they had plenty of things to say about what transpired before their eyes, but maybe they would wait before they attacked him with it.

 He had to find her, explain himself better. Diffuse the situation that was only becoming more tightly wound as the minutes ticked by. Maybe if he was earnest enough she would listen and not dismiss him, maybe he would finally place a crack in those walls she always held around her.

 “Curly.” The voice came from the shadows that lurked around the Chantry door, which the dwarf so elegantly leaned. Varric had his arms crossed across his broad chest, his head tilted only slightly enough so he could look up at the Commander, who paused at the sight of her companion.

 “Varric.” He made to continue his determined stride, almost certain if he waited too long she would simply disappear. Like a puff of smoke, or the final tendrils of a fire as it died down.

 “I wouldn’t chase after her if I were you.” He gruffly responded and followed the Commander out into the snow. His steps faltered, the doubt slowly beginning to creep into his mind and swallow his heart.

 If he found her now, with fury still so elegantly wrapped around her, would he even be able to speak to her? Or would another argument just unravel between them?

 A defeated sigh, a half turn as if he made to return to the Chantry.

 “You look like you need a drink.” The dwarf was turned toward the tavern, the invite making a single blonde eyebrow raise on his face. “I promise the inquisition won’t fall apart if you take a small break. If it does start to, they’ll at least send someone to retrieve you.”

 He didn’t even wait to see if the Commander would follow, instead the dwarf who was so accustomed to the songs that gently wafted from the tavern began to drift away. He only waited a moment, eyes dancing between the storyteller and the still ajar door to the dark Chantry, before he began to follow. His pace matched Varric’s easily, and he didn’t acknowledge the smirk Varric tossed his way.

 “So, tell me Curly,” He began as he held the Tavern door open and the Commander strode past him, into the warmth that gently reminded him he was hungry. He skipped dinner again, didn’t’ he? “What did you do to anger our dear Herald?” The question caught him off guard, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Anywhere Varric could get story material he was there. Taking mental notes to write down in his many ledgers later in the day.

 He sat heavily in the chair opposite Varric, the table was situated nicely in a quiet corner of the tavern. Or as quiet as the tavern could allow with some drunks mingling about and a softly singing bard that milled in the corner. “I didn’t intend to make her angry. I simply disagreed on her stance to side with the mages.”

 A raised brow, a wicked curl of his lips. “Very loudly I assume.”

 Cullen sighed heavily, and ran a gloved hand roughly down his face. “What have I done Varric?”

 “Well I assume you began using hair gel and softened the constantly angry look that wrinkled in between your eyebrows, but besides that-” He shot him as dirty a look as he can muster, every second he sat there the anger that was driving him bled slowly out, leaving him drained. Mentally and emotionally drained.

 Maker.

 “Listen, Curly, she’s a tough one.” An exaggerated huff of agreement as he leaned back in the chair that groaned under him in protest at the movement. “She’s tough and hard headed because she has been through a lot. Because she has to be. Why do you think she distrusts Templars so?”

 Cullen frowned, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Any mage may have a bad run in with a templar or two, although he wished that circumstance was different, but that tiny flicker of raw emotion in her eyes when she shouted that at him. The tears that sprang to her eyes that made his heart ache within his chest. Something raw and scarring caused something like that, he knew it all too well personally.

 “Maker I have dug myself a hole, haven’t I?”

 Varric chuckled softly, his eyes soft with agreement. “You are lucky that she is forgiving.”

 “Is she?” He didn’t want to confide too much in the dwarf, mostly out of worry that he would turn it into a joke or a special chapter in his next book. Yet he needed answers. Something that could help him see some hope in salvaging anything between them. “I do not believe she has relaxed around me the tiniest bit.”

 “Well stop looking always ready for some sort of attack.” Varric’s response was so quick he blinked in response. “You always have at least one hand on your sword Curly, for a mage that jumps around any Templar, it’s a little disheartening.”

 “I am not a Templar any longer.”

 “Then stop acting like one. If you’re not, get your mind away from that Templar mindset that has been so deeply rooted in you it is damaging.”

 Cullen frowned, he did join the Inquisition to get away from that, even stopped taking Lyrium. And while he thought he was doing well, he has been reacting rather awfully to the idea of mages coming to the Inquisition. Without just cause. And as a mage, the Herald has been taking his reactions to heart.

 Hasn’t she?

 Maybe he thought she didn’t trust him, but she thought he didn’t trust her. That must be the reason as to the constant dance they did around each other. Right? He hasn’t told her he trusted her, instead avoiding anything out of fear he might overstep or do something that would turn her away from him.

Did he trust her?

 He frowned, the answer emerging so suddenly it kind of shocked him. He did, undoubtedly, trust her. She has done so much for the Inquisition without even so much as a complaint. She was forced into a position she didn’t want, given a mark she surely didn’t ask for. The fact the only complaint she gave was the title they gave her was baffling, she should be denying anything that they asked her to do. Yet she didn’t.

 He trusted her. Trusted a mage, a soft smile quirked the corner of his lips at the thought. More so that he found a way to heal enough to effectively trust a mage, but also a woman.

 “There you go Curly.” Varric laughed as he leaned back in his chair, eyes glowing with mirth and something very mischievous. “Now you can go find Sterling and speak to her. Since you are all diffused and resolved, courtesy of me of course.”

 Cullen frowned, half raising out of his chair before pausing. Where would he even find her?

 “There’s an arch on the north side of the lake, it’s all falling apart and definitely dangerous, but you’ll find her there.” Varric gently tilted his head toward the door, just as the Commander vanished through it.

 What was the dwarf up to indeed? Mischief continued to shine in his eyes even as he called for a drink from the bartend.


	2. Comfortable Understanding

 “If you have come to argue, I do not have the energy for it.” She was sitting with her back to the stone of the arch that loomed above her, a small fire cackling at her side making her silver hair appear like living flame. She didn’t even turn to look at him as he approached from the little path that winded its way up the mountain to this one spot.

 The spot that overlooked the whole valley. The view took his breath away, to be looking down on the whole valley with nothing above them besides the sky. The many trees with snarled limbs reaching for the darkened sky that bestowed winter’s tears softly on their branches, the sight of Haven nestled so softly in the cradle of the mountains.

 If he just watched and didn’t let his gaze wonder, he could believe that they were at peace. If only for a moment. But the eerie green light that never quite left his mind still sat silently in the distant.

 A reminder.

 Her gaze finally wondered to him, her eyes so dark and sad it kind of surprised him. She was always guarded around him before. Always standing with back straight and eyes so blank that they reminded him of a wall. Yet now, with her shoulders slumped and knees drawn to her chest, she appeared younger than she was.

 Younger and softer. Her whole demeanor was different, she wasn’t holding the mantle of Herald in this moment. She wasn’t putting on a brave face for others.

 It was like a punch to his senses as the realization dawned on him. The mantle of the Herald must be a heavy one, with everything that is asked of her.

 “Actually,” He stepped closer to where she sat, the toes of his boots just within the firelight. “I have come to apologize.”

 The surprised expression that flashed across his face made his heart lurch. Was it so unthinkable that he would apologize? She straightened against the stone a bit, although the tired look never did quite leave her face. “For what, may I ask?” Her voice came out clearer, stronger.

 She was trying to pull the mantle back around herself.

 He stepped closer to the fire, grateful for the warmth and the soft cackle as it ate at the wood. “For being inconsiderate.” He paused, and when she nodded, he took a seat on the other side of the fire. His back pressed against the cold stone and sword situated so the hilt wouldn’t poke him in the side. “I have passed tough judgement on mages before, sometimes without just reasoning. It is unbecoming of me.”

 Her arms were wrapped loosely around her knees, gaze looking across the valley. She sighed and looked at him. “Once someone told me to always consider what others may have gone through, their fears and hesitation may come with cause.” Her head tilted to the side, her gaze was intent on his. Searching. “I wonder- “

 Before her gaze tore him apart, peeled away every careful layer he has placed so she could learn the bitter truth. He answered, quick, tone rushed as the wind that softly whistled between them. “They sound wise.”

 Her gaze turned away, back toward the valley. “They were.” She was somber, and if he wasn’t truly listening he would’ve missed it entirely.

 Were. Whoever it was she was speaking of, has since passed. For a moment he wanted to know who it was, their connection to her.

 For a moment he wanted to push the conversation so he could learn more about her.

 Instead he let the comfortable silence stretch between them, every once in a while, she would stroke the flames with such a soft whisper of magic he missed it the first time. Making the fire stronger, hotter. To keep the two of them warm.

 The silence persisted, and he found it comfortable enough that he let his mind wander as he looked over the valley. Rylen should be preparing the night watch now, and he was certain more reports were being brought to his desk by the minute. He really shouldn’t stray too long there was so much work to be done.

 Always work to be done.

 “You left the Templars?” Her question caught him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts of what more needed to be done for his shaping army that sat at the edge of the frozen lake. Her gaze was soft, tired, open. It took him by surprise, he blinked and his hesitation made her scramble. “I mean, like the Order has no control over you anymore?”

 He shook his head. “I left the Templars as soon as Cassandra came to me about the Inquisition.”

 She blinked, head tilting as she regarded him. The soft motion reminded him of a bird, he wondered if she did it when something puzzled her.  A soft crease appeared between her brows. “Why?”

 The question was an honest one, and he has been asked it many times. The moment he stepped away several Templars looked at him with disdain. Some with hate for him to turn away from the life. Others with hope that there could be an end to the life that they led.

 His answer was always the same.

 Here, in this moment, he almost answered as he would have when asked regularly. Instead he turned his eyes toward the fire, watching as the fire split a piece of wood in two. “That life was no longer for me.” She seemed to accept that, nodding softly.

 He was grateful she didn’t push further. Some would have. Baffled by the idea that he would find it so unpleasing to live within the rules of the Order. Really the Order wasn’t so bad, they were good people trying to do good things. Led by the wrong people.

 He hoped the Order would return to what it originally was.

 He hoped.

 “I think we may be in the same position here Commander.” She laughed, the sound so soft he found himself wanting to hear it again. If only to remember how it sounded.

 “How do you mean?” He was confused, confused on why she was smiling so softly it made her whole face seem to lighten. Confused on why her eyes seemed to dance with something so foreign he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

 She motioned between the two of them. “I think I may have misjudged you, and I think you may have misjudged me.” Before he could object, because he certainly wanted to. She continued. “I do not believe we meant to, I think it is just something that is built into us from a young age.” She shrugged softly. “Mage and templar. The stereotype always is that we are supposed to hate one another. It is what started the war.”

 He nodded in agreement. “I think you may be right.”

 She nodded. “I apologize for misjudging you Commander. It was wrong of me, and I should not have used your past in the heat of an argument against you.” He blinked in surprise, caught off guard by her admittance. She began to stand, offering a hand so he could too. “I think we may get along, if all goes to plan.”

 He grinned, a genuine smile that actually felt so easy on his face it surprised him. Surprised him how easy she just eased every worry he had on his walk up here. How she would react. What would be said.

 Is she like this with everyone?

 Soothing and understanding and Maker. As he looked at her hand, eyes dancing up to her face to see her still grinning he felt his heart skip a beat.

 He took her hand, glove touching her bare skin. “I think you may be right Herald.”

 “Oh Creators,” she waved her hand and the fire went out with a wink. Casting the two of them in shadow. “Please refrain from calling me _that.”_

 He chuckled. “Although I understand your distaste with the title, we must keep up appearances.” She groaned in response, following him quietly as they made it away from the arch and back onto the thin winding path that would lead back down to Haven.

 “You sound just like Josephine.” He heard her grumble at his back.

 He actually laughed at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
